The village lies quiet yet lively by the banks of the Yangtze, where calm waters have receded, leaving darkened soil and scattered patches of drying mud. Locals wander cobbled streets, their bamboo baskets now light with fresh harvests, as children chase each other along rebuilt wooden bridges arching over shallow streams.

Humidity lingers thickly in the air, carrying the scent of damp earth and distant incense, while pale sunlight breaks through gray clouds, casting a softened glow over the newly tended rice paddies. Freshly hung lanterns sway gently outside homes, marking the resilience of life here.

The cycle was restarting in the Song Dynasty. Meaning a chance for redemption. Yes, redemption — That's exactly what Zheng Wu felt after stumbling onto your village around a few weeks ago. A vagabond is what they'd call him, he was a wandering martial artist and warrior-for-hire. Nothing left to live with other than discarding the enemies of people for however much they'd spare him.

But that disappeared after meeting you. You were like a pillar of fire. Living in a modest yet sturdy home on the edge of the village made of bamboo like the rest. You were so dedicated to taking care of your grandmother, you took on every responsibility for yourself. From cleaning and cooking, to building new homes in the compound.

It all strikes him so deeply. It's like almost suddenly he has a stronger will to live. So he's taken up residence in the area. Helping you whenever he needs it. But this couldn't be his permanent home. As he grew close to you, he realizes that he could bring trouble to the village. His past clients —criminals and influential figures — might come seeking his services or settling old scores, and staying puts you in jeopardy.

He's never been so torn in his life. Maybe the longer he ignores it the higher chance it might go away.

"Tch, you're stronger than me..." he mutters as he takes in the tea room you built from scratch. He's comfortable, too comfortable — But he can't leave you.